Dare to Struggle
by ultrachrome
Summary: Off duty, Z finds a girl with ties to Z's own complicated past. Now she and Syd are breaking SPD rules in order to save the girl and conquer Z's own demons. One shot. SydZ.


Author's note - this fic is very dark, be forewarned. I rated it at PG-13 because it's no worse than your average episode of Law & Order or CSI, but if you don't think you can handle mentions of prostitution, and a smidgen of language, then you might want to back out now. 

Disclaimer - Power Rangers SPD is property of Disney, etc.

* * *

"Yesterday I dared to struggle. Today I dare to win." -Bernadette Devlin

* * *

Cadets at the SPD Academy got very few days off. And Z, who had the misfortune of being both an agent for SPD as well as an active member of the B-Squad Power Rangers, got even fewer days off. When she had first joined the Academy, she was a good three years behind the other members of B-Squad, so she had to cast away those first few precious moments of free time in order to study and train for the various competency exams she had to take to graduate officially to Sky, Bridge, and Syd's level.

The reward for all of her hard work was official standing in the SPD registry, pride of a job well done, a knowledge of the handbook so extensive it even put Sky to shame, and of course, the pure, unadulterated joy of a day off that she had _earned_.

Z, decked out in a pair of ratty jeans and a yellow-and-gray top from her pre-Academy days (both articles of clothing salvaged from Syd's spring clothing drive, which was just an excuse for the Pink Ranger to discard anything about Z's wardrobe that she found unfavorable—that was to say, everything), was strolling through one of Newtech's many parks, enjoying the sun on her face. She had come to love her teammates dearly, but she was glad to have a few hours where she didn't have to accommodate to anyone. Like the warm breeze pushing her dark hair off her shoulders, the freedom felt fantastic. Her headphones were jammed in her ears, and she was listening to the latest in screaming, indecipherable rock. She was bopping along to the infectious chorus when she spotted the girl.

Lester Tech Fields, named after one of the founders of their metropolis back when it was merely a blink of a township, was a public garden, well-known for its lush green lawns, its colorful flora populace, and most notably, its pristine white footbridge crossing a burbling stream. Z wasn't sure why she spotted the dark shadow under the base of the footbridge, especially considering the cheery mood she was in, but it had caught her eye, and had sparked her curiosity just enough to lead her to investigate.

Under the bridge, huddled and shaking, was a scared homeless man, swathed in a brown and formless wrap. Z approached cautiously, uncertain as to whether it was her training or her past making her want to talk to him. "Hi," she said in her most dulcet tones. "Do you need help?"

The head lifted, and Z noted with distinct surprise that it wasn't a man at all. It was a girl. Tall and with short hair, she had a thick, curved mark over her forehead, as though someone had dipped a paintbrush in a dark violet ink, and then attempted to create a monochromatic rainbow on the girl's face. Getting closer, Z realized it wasn't ink, paint, or even a dirt smudge, it was scales. Violet scales. Running through her mental database of alien registry, purple and scaly narrowed it down to about three different alien races currently inhabiting Earth.

"I'm fine, thank you," said the girl, stiffening so that her wrap fell further from her scalp and onto her shoulders, revealing her thin ears, quarter-shaped bits of flesh extending from her head. She was Dtrian, or more obviously, half-Dtrian, half-human. Z realized that she was staring and the girl was scared. She quickly pasted on a kind but authoritative smile.

"Don't be scared. I'm SPD. My name's Z."

The girl stared at Z indifferently, her eyes dark not just from the shadows under the bridge. Still Z continued to smile, continued to attempt to make herself as approachable as possible. Finally, the girl said, her voice thick and wet, "I'm Della."

"How long have you been living on the streets?" Z wondered.

"I don't really remember." The translation being,_ too long_.

It was then that Z noticed the purple mark on Della's neck. It wasn't another splotch of scales, this was the purple of a nasty bruise. And a large one at that, the size of an apple, and the color of a plum. It looked very painful.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"This morning." It was a lie.

Z was beginning to recognize the symptoms of the situation. The apprehension in Della's eyes. She was abysmally lanky, all skeleton and skin, and her grip was wilted and useless when Z extended a hand to help the girl to her feet. "Come on," she said. "Let's get you some food."

The girl got to her feet, clenching her shawl around her thin form, and limped out into the sun. Moments ago, the sunlight had felt warm and inviting, but now it was harsh and obtrusive, making Della wince and blink, illuminating the pallor of her skin and casting a shadow of her hunched form. Z's heart ached at the pitiful sight before her, and while something in the back of her mind regretted the loss of her day, she was filled with resolve to do everything in her power to help Della.

* * *

From the moment she'd met Commander Anubis Cruger, Z had been filled with respect. He cut an impressive figure, mostly dog, but all man. He was towering and fierce, and his voice inspired shudders in even the most hardened of individuals, but underneath that was a streak of compassion that Z vastly admired. She was counting on this streak in particular to help her cause, but Cruger seemed unwilling to listen to her plea.

"Sir, she needs our help." She was following the Commander through the halls of the Academy, trying futilely to get him to stop and listen. Or simply just to stop.

"Cadet Delgado, the Academy is not a bus stop. It is an elite institution. I appreciate your nobility, but this is non-negotiable." He finally stilled his frenetic pace, turning to look at her. Cruger only ever seemed to wear a handful of expressions: anger (directed at the cadets), unbridled rage (directed at Gruumm and his various minions), and what she could only describe as an overabundance of calm. Therefore, she was surprised when the eyes he turned to her now were unusually sad. "I'm sorry," he said, in a voice so low she couldn't be convinced he'd spoken at all.

"Sir," she tried again, knowing this was her very last chance and she was probably pushing it, anyway. "You've taken in Sam. You've taken in me and Jack."

"Those were extenuating circumstances, Cadet. I ask that you not discuss it again. This matter is closed." He turned away from her once more, and said clearly, "Dismissed."

"Sir, yes sir," she said flatly, saluting and walking away. She pounded her fist into her hand, thinking about Della in the SPD cafeteria, the product of Z cashing in on every favor she was owed since starting at the Academy, and a few rules broken in the process. Cruger may have been sorry then, but once he discovered she'd smuggled her runaway past security for a meal on the Academy's dime, Z couldn't imagine the world of trouble she'd be in.

"Time to go," she said quietly, wrapping her hand around the ribbon of Della's arm, feeling unusually large and strong in the presence of the abnormally thin girl. "Did you eat all right?"

"The food's not very good," said Della.

Z laughed despite herself. "No, it's really not."

"But it's better than nothing, which is what I usually get." It was the longest string of words that she'd uttered yet. "So thank you."

"I only wish I could do more," said Z under her breath. Della was limping less now, but she still looked sad as she moved through the hallways like a phantom, barely there.

They had made it only a block outside of SPD's border when the black car with tinted windows pulled up. The rear window lowered only a fraction, so Z could only see a pair of piercing blue eyes. Nothing enough for her to ID later, but clearly enough for Della to recognize, judging by the way she seemed to shrink into herself. "Della, get in the car," said the owner of the eyes, a man with a deceptively smooth voice. The cold eyes turned to Z, running the length of her figure and sizing her up as though he was buying meat at the butcher's. Z wished that she was in uniform, but she suspected that while the regulation gray might save her from the blue-eyed man, it would only cause more trouble for Della. She straightened herself, appearing indifferent to his disturbing gaze, and as the rear door of the dark car opened a crack, Della broke loose of Z's grip to slide into the vehicle. Z opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again shortly thereafter. There was nothing she could say; Della would get in the car regardless. No sooner had Della gotten inside than the car pulled away from the curb abruptly. Z studied the departing vehicle, taking in the make and model, and noting with regret that it had no license plate, or any distinguishing marks.

Z had long since deduced that Della considered the underside of the Fields' footbridge her home when she had no other bed to stay the night, and Z only prayed that the blue-eyed man was engaging her for a short while, so that Della might be at the bridge when Z returned tomorrow.

* * *

"Where are you going?" Syd asked, tagging along Z out to the vehicle bay shortly after breakfast the following day.

"You need to work on how you trail a suspect, Princess," said Z. "I'm going on patrol."

"You're not scheduled for patrol today."

Z stopped in front of one of the Jeeps, curling her fingers around the door handle but not moving to open it. "You know my schedule now?"

In Z's moment of hesitation, Syd had already gone around to the passenger side of the Jeep. "Information is my business, remember? I'm the best in B-Squad at surveillance." She paused. "Which is why I'm going with you."

"No you're not." The last thing she needed was Syd stepping in on a situation she knew nothing about. If Z's suspicions were correct, and she didn't doubt that they were, this was going to be beyond Syd's comprehension.

"Yes," said Syd firmly. "I am."

Knowing that she'd lost, Z said, "You don't even know where I'm going."

"All the more reason why I should. You've been acting strangely lately, Z, and as your partner, I'm concerned about your safety." She opened the door and sat down primly. "So where are we going?"

"The Fields. I have to do some follow-up on a case." Z followed Syd's lead and got into the Jeep. She supposed she should fight, but found that she didn't really want to. She might later consider the whole debacle a huge mistake, but at the moment, she was somewhat grateful for Syd's company, no matter how pushy it might have been.

"Is this the case you were asking the Commander about yesterday?" Syd inquired innocently as the car pulled out of the bay and onto the street.

"How'd you know about that?"

"I guess I'm better at trailing a suspect than you thought." When Z cast a look in the blonde's direction, Syd was smiling impishly. Despite the circumstances, Z found herself laughing a little.

"I guess so. Yes, it's the case from yesterday. But you're better off not asking too many questions. Cruger denied my request, so this is unofficial business."

The smile was certainly gone now. "Just how much trouble will you be getting me into?"

"You're the one who wanted to come, Princess."

"You've got me there," Syd agreed, sounding none too thrilled about it. Z could hardly blame her, but in her own defense, she'd tried to dissuade Syd.

There were clouds in the sky, dark and pregnant with the promise of rain, filling Z with a certain sense of foreboding. She'd run the dark car through the system earlier, but it was a popular model, and with no identifying marks, she'd hit a wall. She had probably done Della no favors by bringing her so close to headquarters, and she hoped to every god she could think of that the mistake hadn't been too costly.

"So are you going to fill me in?" said Syd, oblivious to the notion that she was interrupting Z's train of thought. In a way, Z was almost grateful for the intrusion, because her thoughts were getting progressively darker.

"There's a girl that needs my help," said Z. "She's homeless, and I think she's in trouble."

"I'm not sure why this is a case for SPD," said Syd. "Shouldn't you just direct her towards a shelter?"

Z shook her head. "No. They can't help her."

"It's sort of their job, Z."

A yellow light blinked to red, and Z slammed on her brakes harder than necessary, her fingers clenching around the wheel. "What good are they going to do? Some warm gruel, a floor to sleep on?"

"This isn't _Oliver Twist_, Z."

"No, it's not." With a sigh, she confessed, "She's got a pimp. An angry one. Her parents are mixed species, and God only knows where they are now. She can't bring in the cash the pimp needs, and he takes it out on her. She's thirteen years old." Della's age was the only hard fact she had, straight from the runway's mouth. Whatever else paltry information she had about the case, she had gleaned through intuition and speculation.

"And what's your plan, exactly?"

"Take her back to SPD, where the bastard can't get her."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" demanded Syd.

Stunned, Z turned to her partner incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"You've got this weird righteous streak to you. You think it's your responsibility to take care of every single runaway and orphan you come across. SPD is supposed to deal with interplanetary cases, Z, we're supposed to be protectors. Let the cops deal with the small things."

"Small things? Princess, she's been forced into prostitution. She's being beaten. If that doesn't qualify her for protection, I don't know what does. The cops can't handle this. They turn their backs on the runaways. People who live on the streets are nonentities as far as this city is concerned." Z's knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel, the speedometer wavering around dangerous speeds for city avenues.

"Z, calm down," said Syd. As the car began to rocket forward, coursing through a yellow light, Syd's voice got noticeably shaky.

Z, on the other hand, wasn't convinced that she would be able to curb her rage on her own, and was fortunately saved from the effort by the arrival of the parking lot.

Syd, to her credit, walked behind Z quietly, keeping a respectable distance, one that was in part a way to not appear to Della as a threat, and a way to avoid Z's burgeoning anger. But by the time they'd reached the footbridge, Z had already fallen into a gentle and concerned smile, and a near-melodious tone of voice, designed to soothe and inspire confidence. But as they rounded the corner, there was no huddled mass beneath the bridge, nor was there evidence that there had been one in several hours.

"Shit," breathed Z. "She's gone."

Syd murmured reassurances, but the words were lost on Z as she tried to force her way through the fog of grief that had taken up residence in her head. She had to think clearly, and only then would she be able to work at finding Della.

"Come on, let's go and figure this out," she finally registered Syd as saying. But Z remained frozen, staring at the spot where only just yesterday Della had been, scared, cold, and hungry, but safe. Safer than she'd been since Z had entered her life.

She became aware of the presence of Syd's hand on her forearm, unnaturally warm and reassuring. "Z, come on. Let's go somewhere, get something to eat, and come up with an attack plan. You're no good to her like this. You need to focus." Her slender fingers moved down to wend their way around Z's, and she tugged gently.

Still feeling foggy, Z fell prey to the comforting pull of Syd's hand clenching her own.

* * *

Where they found themselves was a small, greasy spoon of a diner, crammed in an uncomfortable vinyl booth. Syd had made a face of distaste when Z had made the suggestion, but hadn't said a word about the establishment, which to her was questionable at best, but which to Z carried an air of home.

Z was munching on a grilled cheese, warmed to melty perfection, reminded of the sandwiches that Jack used to make for her. Melting things over a meager stovetop was Jack's only culinary specialty, but it was one that she had loved.

"Why are you so invested, Z?" asked Syd quietly, picking at her salad.

Z sighed. She preferred to distance herself from her past than divulge it, but she had to start offering explanations if she didn't want Syd reporting their illicit, off-the-record activities to Cruger. Not that she thought Syd would betray her like that, but she didn't want to run the risk of Syd using blackmail. Syd was too innocent to resort to methods like those, and while Z often voiced her irritation with Syd's naivety, she adored the wide-eyed optimism of the Ranger.

That said, she hated to be the one to strip Syd of it now. "I was Della once," she confessed. "Alone in the world. Different, and ridiculed because of it, and homeless and scared. I needed to eat. I needed to not get picked up by the police. They get you, they put you in a foster home, and sometimes that's worse than living on the street." She divulged no further details on that subject, though her mind burned with the stories she'd heard about the fates of some friends who'd been unfortunate enough to get caught. "I fell in with the wrong people," she summed it up as tactfully as she could. "I trusted too much, and was willing to compromise my dignity for my survival."

Syd's eyes widened with horror, as Z had predicted. She felt a stab of remorse, but it was too late to go back. "You mean you..."

Z nodded once, curtly. "I sold my body for money. My pimp—Gerard—took a large cut, but I had enough to eat, and most nights, I had a roof over my head. I didn't think there were any other options. Until Jack found me." She smiled absently, running her finger around the rim of her plate. "Jack was sort of genius, actually. He'd pose as a john, and pick us up, and then just never returned us. Jack never had anything, but he always gave so much. Gerard came after him a few times, but for some reason, Jack was always untouchable. He tried to find a different place to stay, but he couldn't get rid of me at that point. I'd been working with Jack for six months when Gerard was put away."

"Z," said Syd, and when Z finally dared to meet the blonde's eyes, they were filled with tears. "Z, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry for me, Princess. I got out. I'm fine now. It's touching and all, but save your worries for someone who needs them now."

Syd was still crying, but she nodded. "All right."

Z softened into a smile. "But thank you."

Syd gripped her hand suddenly, squeezing it with unprecedented passion, and then leaned across the booth to plant her lips firmly on Z's forehead. "We'll find her," she said, her voice thick with promise. "We'll find her, and we'll rescue her. Nobody else can do it but us. She needs us."

Something in Syd's words stirred Z. "Princess, you shouldn't drag yourself into this mess. I'm operating out of jurisdiction here. It's grounds for all sorts of trouble. SPD can function without me, but it can't function without the both of us."

"To hell with what the Commander says." Syd leaned in again, this time, her lips meeting Z's own. The kiss was unexpected, but also unromantic, lacking passion, but filled with resolve. "You're my best friend, and I love you, Z. I'm behind you a thousand percent."

Z grinned through the faintest of tears, clutching Syd's hand right back, her stomach filled with food, and her heart filled with the desire to fight.

* * *

Z's first stop was Piggy. She didn't like the little sleaze ball in the slightest, and she trusted him even less, but he was a prime source of information. She banged on what served as his door, and when he opened it and stepped outside, she pressed him against the side of his dwelling. "Gerard," she said.

"No," drawled the alien. "I'm Piggy." He punctuated it with a laugh, one that was more nervous than she'd imagine he liked.

"No time for jokes, pal. I'm looking for Gerard, and I'm betting you can help. Police records say that scumbag was released not too long ago. Hear anything about it?" She gripped the lapels of his shirt a little more firmly, wishing she could close her fingers around his greasy throat.

Piggy sighed with defeat, and as a reward, Z loosened her fingers. "Gerard got out three weeks ago, yeah. Word on the street is that he's running an operation out of the North End."

"The usual business?"

"Old habits die hard, Z," said Piggy, and his voice held a note of sadness that it had never once carried in the duration she'd known him. His downcast eyes met hers, and Z, flushed with embarrassment, released him. She'd long since accepted her past, recognized her desperation and lack of judgment, but that didn't mean that she was proud of it, and pity from a loser like Piggy only served to flood her with shame she had long since repressed.

"We have what we need," she said sharply, meeting no one's eyes as she turned away. "Let's go, Syd."

"One more thing," said Syd, but she wasn't talking to Z. "We're looking for a girl. Half-Dtrian, half-human. Goes by Della. Any chance she might have crossed paths with Gerard?"

"Is she a looker?" said Piggy bluntly, and her back still turned, Z bristled with disgust.

Syd kept her voice even and managed to twist it slightly with disdain. "She's young and scared."

"That's good enough for Gerard. They've probably met."

"All right. Thank you, Piggy," said Syd.

"Don't thank that freak," said Z.

"Hey, hey, hey," said Piggy, throwing up his hands in a defensive gesture. "Don't shoot the messenger, girls. I never took anything that Gerard offered me. I'm innocent."

"Innocent?" demanded Z, stalking forward with fire in her eyes. "That sick, twisted bastard preys on scared kids, and you just sit back and don't do anything, and you're _innocent_? Girls are out there getting raped and beaten because of that guy, and you just sit here in your dump and fake like you care?" she said, jabbing her forefinger at his lurid shirt and soft belly with every accusation. "If you _really_ gave a damn, you'd take all of your information and actually use it for something instead of your own personal gain. I'd call you out on how slimy you really are, but you'd probably take it as a compliment."

Z became aware of Syd's hands on her shoulders, the smaller girl pulling her away before her anger took over. "Let's go, Z, let's go."

It was back in the passenger seat of the Jeep where Z broke down, overwhelmed with a host of unpleasant emotions. "This city's in the middle of a shit-storm, and it doesn't even notice," she lamented. "Maybe Gruumm's got the right idea. Maybe the planet should just be wiped out."

"Don't say things like that, Z," said Syd, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You can't let people like Piggy and Gerard ruin your faith in humanity. For every Gerard out there that's willing to destroy lives, there's a Jack who wants to save them. For every guy like Piggy who sits back and does nothing with what he knows, there's a Z, who fights to change something. You are the strongest person I've ever met, Z, and if Gruumm wipes out the world, the world is a worse place for having lost you."

"Why, Princess?" said Z, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Why are you willing to fight my fight?"

"Your fight is my fight," said Syd simply. "When you first got to the Academy, I thought you were an ice queen with a big mouth and a bad wardrobe. Then I realized you were more dedicated to being a Ranger than any of the rest of us, even Sky. And you were doing it for all the right reasons. You want to help. You've seen the worst of the city, and you want to change it. I wake up every morning, Z, and I see you, and I'm inspired to fight. I don't care if it's shutting down Gruumm and his guys, or if it's putting away pimps. I'm sheltered, and a princess, and just because I don't know any pain and suffering doesn't mean that I want other people to know it in my place."

Z leaned across the stick shift, and mashed her face to Syd's, cupping the girl's face and trying to communicate all of her sorrow and her gratitude and her hope through her kiss. This was not the Syd she'd met when she'd first started at the Academy. Syd's lack of complexity did not make her vapid as Z had originally determined; it only meant that she had nothing clouding her judgment. Any decision she made was based on the information she received and processed, not on a wealth of already standing emotions, like Z. Which meant that Syd's faith in Z and her mission was all the more sincere and special, because she truly believed in Z's cause. Syd's skin was smooth under Z's hands, and there was an utter lack of complication in the act of kissing Syd, something that surprised her wholly. It was also a bright speck of relief punching through the black curtain that had otherwise been Z's day. It was the only thing in this entire experience that had a positive side.

She pulled away, not wanting to sully the moment with explanations. "All right, let's rock and roll," she said firmly.

* * *

The North End of Newtech was a cesspool of criminal activity. Drug rings, crime rings, and prostitution rings all came together in a Venn diagram of sleaze. Just driving past Bolton Avenue, the unofficial marker of the beginning of North End, left Z feeling dirty. Finding Gerard would probably be easier than he'd like. But then there was the question of what Z would do when she found him.

Syd hadn't spoken for the entire drive. Either she was gearing up for whatever was to come, or she was mulling over Z's earlier bout of emotion. But now she looked to Z expectantly, waiting for direction.

Ever since becoming cops, Jack and Z's resources on the street had depleted noticeably. No one wanted to be seen associating with SPD, no matter what ties they might have had in the past. After Jack and Z had been picked up by Cruger, Jack's little gang had fallen apart. They'd all gone their separate ways, but no one had followed Jack's dream. A few wayward runaways had unfortunately made ill-conceived alliances with people who dealt solely out of the North End. Still, Z was counting on a little loyalty and a lot of fear to make connections with some former friends.

She had Syd pull over in front of an abandoned brick building. They had stopped to change into civvies, deeming it unwise to enter this sort of territory in uniform. Syd remained close behind Z, silent, as was the plan, and the two climbed the rickety stairs to the decrepit apartment building. On the third floor, a door was marked with a loose brass A, swinging upside down. Z knocked, and moments later, the door opened to reveal a dark-haired man, actually no older than Z and Syd, but looking considerably more so owing to the bags under his eyes and the white scar spanning from his ear to his jaw. "Z," he said. "Long time no see."

"Hey, Lars." Her tone was familiar, but her greeting was clipped and businesslike. She liked Lars immensely, but this was not a friendly call. "Can we come in?"

His eyes moved skittishly from one girl to the other. "You're not..."

"We're just visiting," she assured him.

"I guess." Lars's face remained unconvinced, but he stepped aside and let them in.

"Nice place for a squatter," Z observed, taking in the plump loveseat, ratty but clean, and the piles of stripped books, stacked neatly against the bare walls. Upon closer inspection, she discovered that they were alphabetized by author. The shy bookworm that she had befriended four years ago hadn't changed much.

"Rent's cheap," he joked weakly. "And the view's nice, too."

Syd looked silently out the window to the brick wall his apartment faced.

When Z didn't comment, Lars asked, "What brings you here, Z?"

"We're looking to make a new friend, Lars," said Z, reaching behind her to take Syd's hand. "We're thinking alien, maybe?" She winked at him knowingly, "I like blondes, she likes brunettes...we're learning to compromise."

"Are you serious?" he said, once again reverting back to looking between the two girls. "I always suspected, but you were with Jack so much..."

"Things aren't always what they seem, Lars. Jack's a buddy, and I owe him my life, but I don't swing that way." She smiled blandly. "So, got anything for us?"

"Oh. Oh, no. I just live here, Z, I don't partake in the exchanging of goods and services."

"But I'm sure you could point us in the direction of someone who could. Pretty please?" Z now moved to loop her arm around Syd's waist and draw her close. Syd leaned into Z's side, staying silent like they'd agreed. "We're just looking to spice up our love life a little."

Lars looked pained. "Couldn't you find a more reputable place?"

"Maybe we're not looking for reputable. What's the matter, Lars?"

"There's only one name around these days for what you're looking for, but you're not going to like the name."

"Gerard."

"Yeah. He's out again."

"He was always slippery." The air was thick with tension, and Z allotted herself just enough silence so that she didn't seem eager when she said, "Know where I can find him?"

"You sure this isn't some revenge thing?" he said cautiously.

"Trust me, it isn't revenge I want." Her fingers clutched at Syd somewhat, as she lied through her teeth.

"You've grown, Z." Lars ripped the cover page off of one of his paperbacks and scribbled a note on it. He folded it and handed it over, holding her hand longer than was necessary. "Watch yourself, okay? Maybe you've moved on, but Gerard isn't that forgiving. If he sees you, you could be in trouble, and her too." He jerked his head in Syd's direction.

"I'll take care of her," said Z, the first honest statement she'd issued since knocking on Lars's door.

"Yeah," he said. "But who's gonna take care of you?"

The address was near the docks. Z didn't like to think of Gerard's quick temper and violent tendencies, and what he could do with large bodies of water. She was beginning to get anxious about facing the man, and anxiety wouldn't serve her well if she was going to rescue Della, not to mention anyone else he might be 'employing'.

"Should we call for backup?" asked Syd.

"Not yet. We don't know what the situation is."

"Call me crazy, but that's just a better reason to call for backup. This is dangerous, Z. Not knowing what you're going up against is never a good thing. Why do you think Kat's computers are so big?"

"Gerard only hits the people that don't hit back," said Z firmly. "And I intend to hit back." She took hold of Syd's shoulder and looked her in the eyes. "Here's the plan. I'll draw out the mother bear, and while I'm grappling, you take the cubs and get yourself the hell out of the den. Go back to SPD. Get them to a safe place. And call for backup." She kissed the blonde firmly. "I love you, Syd. Whatever that means to you, I don't mind."

"No, I love you too." The words held no emotional weight to them, making it impossible to determine the context. When Syd smiled, it was all business. "Time to go to work."

Putting on her best airs of cheerful and clueless shopper, Z took Syd's hand and they went into the warehouse that Lars had directed them to. "Hi," she said to the man sprawled out on the couch, "my girlfriend and I are looking to, um, buy." He met her gaze evenly, nonplussed, and she felt a thrill of recognition. There was something about this man. Maybe he'd had dealings with Gerard in the past? Was he one of Gerard's clients? Worse, was he one of hers?

"What are you in the mood for?" he said smoothly, and Z understood. He was the blue-eyed man from the car yesterday. Della, if she was still alive, was here.

"Alien, if you've got it." Z made sure to appear as nonchalant and non-threatening as possible, despite the fact that she was horribly on edge. She didn't like this man.

He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "I've seen you before, haven't I." He didn't ask questions, he issued statements.

"I don't..."

The blue-eyed man clapped his hands together. "You were with Della yesterday, weren't you."

She was caught—unless she could work this angle. "Depends. She the cute little thing with the purple?" She waved at her forehead.

"That's the one."

"I liked her. You got her?"

"She's otherwise occupied at the moment, but I've got a nice Yendar, if you and your friend don't mind playing a little rough." He leered at her, which made her shudder inwardly, but when he fixed that same gaze on Syd, something flared.

Plastering on her flirtiest smile, she approached him slowly. He took it all in stride. "Sure, I can play a little rough," she said, leaning in close. He grinned at her, and she lifted her blaster from its hiding place in her chunky boots, and pressed the muzzle to his chest. "Where's Della."

He blinked the bright blue eyes at her, with confusion fast fading into the realization that he'd been duped, and she was armed. "I've shot people more insignificant than you, pal," she said calmly. "Tell me where Della is, or I'll blow a hole in your chest so cleanly you'll be able to see the couch through it."

"She's in the punishment chamber," he said, finally losing his smooth timber in favor of a light tremor of a voice. "With, with Gerard."

"Punishment chamber. Is that one of the rooms you rent out, one of the services you provide?" She pushed the gun against his chest a little harder, feeling the hitch in his breath.

"Gerard doesn't offer rooms, only bodies," he said. "The punishment chamber is his name for his office. It's where he collects the money."

Z was hit with a flash of a swinging yellow light, and a stiff mahogany desk that pressed into her rear as Gerard loomed over her with his ham-sized fists. Gerard's office hadn't had any special nicknames at the time. Or if she'd heard them, she'd made the effort to forget. Getting hit with the memory now was almost enough to break her façade, and her eyes glazed over for a fraction of a second before she blinked away the anguish and glared at him. "How many girls does Gerard have in his employment currently?"

"An even fifteen," he said. "Nine girls, two boys, and four aliens."

"And how many of them are here now?"

"Only thirteen. Tuesdays are slow."

Z glanced over her shoulder at Syd, who nodded and now knew what to look for.

"I'm going to tie you up now," Z informed her hostage. "And if you so much as make a noise, I won't hesitate to blow your pig head clean off."

Blue Eyes nodded, and Z escorted him to a solid-looking wooden chair, where she cuffed his hands behind his back, and tied his arms in place. "Bet playing rough isn't so much fun right now, is it," she said. "Syd, you know what to do."

"Be careful," said Syd.

Z wanted to offer assurances, toss out a throwaway line such as, "I always am." But she never was. So she said nothing at all, only smiled grimly and went off to face her destiny.

* * *

Blaster clutched in one hand, Z moved through the hallways of the warehouse with every bit of stealth training she'd learned. Blue Eyes hadn't told her which room was the punishment chamber, but he didn't need to, because she heard Gerard's voice, just as raspy and terrifying as it had been six years ago. The kind of voice you couldn't say no to, no matter how much you wanted.

"What were you thinking, you stupid little bitch!" he was railing. "SPD headquarters? What were you going to do, turn me in? You think that they care about the testimony of a whore? Even if they believed your little sob story, they'd just arrest you too." There was the sickening sound of flesh against flesh, and Z winced. She heard sobs. "Quit crying. You think that'll help?" Three more pounds of fist into limp body, and then a weak cough. "They can't keep me, anyway. Never could."

Z kicked open the door. "Third time's the charm, Gerard," she said, aiming the gun directly between his piggy eyes. Della was cowered on the cold cement floor, crying.

He blinked at her, and after what seemed an eternity, recognition dawned. "Little Lizzy," he said. "What a surprise. I figured you for dead now."

"Bad luck. Let her go."

"Little Lizzy grows up, and suddenly thinks she can fight back?" he sneered. "I seem to remember you as a worse little bitch than this one."

"Do you want to cross me, Gerard?" she demanded, willing her arm to remain steady. "Insulting the girl with the gun...you never were that smart."

"And yet you feared me."

"Because you threatened me with violence at every turn. Tell me, how does it feel to have the tables turned? How does it feel to be held at the brink of death?" They were locked in a staring death match, but Z still had the presence of mind to issue a command to the third frozen member of the room. "Della, get out."

Della, though shaking, didn't hesitate. She got to her feet and stumbled out of the room. Gerard wisely remained where he was, at gunpoint. "The beast is out of it's cage, buddy," she said. "This whole operation is coming to an end, and this time, you won't get out again. I'll see to that."

"What are you going to do? Shoot me?"

"I was planning on arresting you, but shooting is sounding like a good option," she said. The gun felt unnaturally light in her hands, like an instrument of salvation. She had thought that she'd put the past behind her, but seeing Gerard's tiny beady eyes and familiar mocking sneer made old bruises begin to ache again. Her finger grew heavy wrapped around the trigger. "Shoot you," she said, not entirely conscious of her own voice, "and then burn this hellhole to the ground. They wouldn't even find the body."

Something stirred in his eyes, as he recognized something impenetrable in her own. When he spoke the name she used to go by, he sounded almost as though he was pleading. "Lizzy."

"Whatever happened to them?" she said. "Whatever happened to the kids that got too old, to the ones that couldn't bring in the cash you liked? Did you sell them off to another pimp? Did you beat them to death? Where did you hide the bodies?" She was beside herself, quite outside of herself altogether, awash in a seas of remembrances. Girls who were gone one day without explanation. Ones that she knew Jack hadn't rescued.

"Lizzy, they wanted to leave, and I let them." He spoke calmly, straightening slightly as he spotted the chink in her armor. "I never kept anyone against their will. I let you go, didn't I? You left me, and I never came after you."

"You were in jail, is why."

"But I could've sent someone after you and your boyfriend," he said. "I never did. I let Della go just now. I never kept anyone against their will."

Z couldn't believe she was standing there, gun in hand, listening to this diatribe of lies. She couldn't believe that for a few seconds, she'd actually almost believed him. If she shot him now, she could end his lies, end his reign of terror over the defenseless girls of the city. She could get away with it; pleading self-defense. She was a registered Ranger, and he was a convicted felon. Anyone would sided with her, and she could absolutely get away with it. She was blinded by rage. "You made my life hell, Gerard. You made a lot of lives hell. It's time for retribution." She fired.

"Z!" Syd knocked at her wrist, tilting it a few degrees, making it so the laser beam fell just short of blowing Gerard's foul head off, and instead made a scorch mark on the gray wall, a wisp of smoke rising. "What are you doing?" demanded her partner.

Z didn't answer, lowering her gun arm as she started to come into light. She had almost killed a person. A person who wasn't threatening her, who was unarmed. She felt weak with horror.

"I called for backup. I've taken out all the kids. Jack and the others are on their way, and they're bringing cops. It's over, Z. Gerard's going away." She patted Z's hand, but Z only barely heard.

Syd approached Gerard with a swagger and a no-nonsense expression, cuffing him. "Gerard, you're under arrest for kidnapping, child endangerment..."

Z dropped her gun arm to her side and walked away.

* * *

Several hours later, after the arrest and the debriefing, Z sat on her mattress with her knees pulled tightly to her chest. The swish of the opening door never sounded so ominous, now that she had gone against every SPD regulation in the book. But it was only Syd, who wrapped her arms around Z. "Della's all right," she said. "They all are. SPD contacted all of the parents they could find, and the kids are going home. The other four are going into foster care. Including Della."

"And Gerard?"

"Awaiting trial, but I guarantee he'll go away for the longest sentence possible."

"I almost killed him, Syd. I thought I could handle this, but I was wrong. I saw him, and it all came back to me...every time he beat me, every john he sent me off with. And I just wanted him dead."

"You can't be held responsible for your feelings." Syd rested her head against Z's shoulder. "In your place, I might've done the same."

"No, you wouldn't have," said Z, shaking her head resolutely. "You're not like that. Not like me."

She lay down, eyes fixed on the ceiling with such precision she could have been trying to see through it. After a pause, Syd stretched next to her, clutching Z's hand. "It's okay, Z. You didn't do it. That's the important thing."

Z's mind played over and over Syd's earlier admissions of love. They hadn't been defined in any context, so Z didn't know if Syd considered her the best best friend ever, or a potential love interest. Asking seemed tacky given the circumstances, but that aside, Z found that she didn't really want or need terms defined. She couldn't quite being to define them for herself. What she felt for Syd was very strong, devotion, belief in Syd's skills, the desire to be liked and accepted by her, the desire to protect. That was how Z thought of love. Kissing Syd was decidedly sweet, definitely enjoyable, but it wasn't a means to an end. Nor was Z looking for any sort of romance, because she neither wanted it, nor believed herself capable of giving it or worthy of receiving it.

She loved Syd, and that meant precisely what it meant at any given moment the thought occurred to her. At this precise moment in time, it was a grateful love, a love borne of thanks that Syd had entered her life and given Z what she felt was a sort of purpose.

However Syd felt about her, she was content to lie back and wait for Syd to figure it out herself. This decision would come after a considerable amount of solo thought and elaborate discussion with Z, as Syd compiled all the facts around her like she always did. And if she wasn't looking for a definitive relationship, Z was all right with that. Syd, she believed, might be better off without being chained to Z, anyway.

"Are you all right, Z?" The question pierced through the bubble of Z's thoughts, and she had to remind herself to focus.

"I'm okay."

"You're very quiet. I don't think I've ever seen you so quiet."

Z laughed shortly. "Very funny."

"For what it's worth...I've never met anyone as strong as you. I'm very proud of you, Z, and I hope you're proud of yourself."

"Proud of what?" The momentary stillness she had found while debating her relationship with Syd had fallen way to the dark thoughts of the day's events, to her own weakness and the disaster that had almost occurred at her hands. The disaster she almost wish she hadn't been denied, a definitive end at last.

"You looked your past in the face, and you overcame it. That takes an incredible amount of strength. Not many others could've done that."

Z said nothing. They were both looking at the same situation with different lenses. She admittedly preferred Syd's view on things, the one that made her look like a hero, where when Z viewed the events, she only saw her own lack of judgment. She regretted going in without backup only in the sense that she was going to be severely reprimanded for her actions. She had been right in assuming that Gerard would provide little challenge, and while she felt the sting of being denied her vengeance, she relished those flashes of fear in his eyes. She savored the chance she had to throw insults in his face, and she was warmed by the fact that she had come out of their altercation no worse for wear.

"I wanted to thank you, Princess. If it wasn't for you, who knows what might have happened. You held me back. If I had done it, if I had killed him, I wouldn't be any better than he was. Using violence to get what I want. Going after the defenseless. That's never what I wanted to do. And if I had today, I never would've been able to turn back."

"I believe in you, Z. So does Jack."

She'd known Jack longer, but after all of this, Syd's belief meant so much more. She forced herself to remain looking at the ceiling, to avoid seeing something in Syd's eyes. Whether it be the wrong thing, or the right thing, or worse, seeing nothing at all.

Yesterday, Z had walked along in the park, wrapped in the glow of the sun, and holding the belief that the entire future ahead of her beckoned gloriously. She had thought that the past was past, that she had grown and moved on, but wasn't entirely surprised to discover that nothing was ever that easy. She had certainly never expected a war, and while she'd gotten one, and gotten through it, the disappointment was that she couldn't safely say whether she'd won or lost. If she was to walk through the park again, the same sun embracing her, what would she see? Would she see the future ahead, no longer marred by the ghosts of her past? Was she finally, definitively free this time?

"Z?"

Z thought she felt Syd's lips at her shoulder, but maybe it was only her breath. "Yeah?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," said Z. "Nothing at all."


End file.
